


you taught me the stars (before you left)

by sejutaejo



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Original Character(s), POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sejutaejo/pseuds/sejutaejo
Summary: Ivy and Frankie were debating about what had actually happened to their teachers. Frankie told her about some gloomy stories, and Ivy insisted that they were the most timeless couple she had ever seen. But, while his sisters were making up stories, Link developed a theory of his own.-or: teenagers, peers and the entire school review the ups, downs, trials and the (inevitable?) reconciliation of Callie Torres and Arizona Robbins through the years.
Relationships: Arizona Robbins/Callie Torres
Comments: 11
Kudos: 20





	you taught me the stars (before you left)

**Author's Note:**

> there is no definite number of years between each part, so the breaks aren't necessarily one year apart. also, the names of the OCs are taken from true Grey's Anatomy patients through the seasons.
> 
> title taken from Saturn by Sleeping at Last

i. freshmen.

Everyone gossips. Especially when you’re in the dead center of a building populated by overstressed, hormonal teenagers who resort to manning the rumor mill when they concede to the unfathomable reality that is the senselessness of the education system. When they fail to understand why things should be so stupid all the time, teenagers redirect their attention to matters they can prod and examine to gain finally reasonable answers. For example, the golden ring banded around Ms. Callie Torres’s finger.

It had been the talk of the week: the mysterious ring that suddenly appeared out of nowhere like a Pokémon in the wilds with all the novelty that can entice the crankier older versions of 12-year-olds with Nintendos. Absolutely no young soul knew who was wearing the other half. No one even suspected Ms. Torres had been in a relationship long enough to be engaged to someone.

Granted, Ms. Torres was as secretive as she was loud. Though they suspected the name ‘Callie’ was short for something, nobody, not even the five freshmen she had taken under her wing this year, knew her full name. They knew she loved dancing in her underwear, yes, (though that was something the class did not need to know). But did they know which Hispanic country tailored her perfectly fluent Spanish rants? Did they know the name of the supposed fiancé who gave her the ring she shamelessly admires in public?

It was a rather disappointing situation to be in, having no clue about one of your favorite teacher’s life milestones. The Ms. Torres was about to become a Mrs. Someone, and her students could not just accept that and move on like it was a weather update. So they spun the rumor mill, and wondered where the grapevines were going to land.

Unfortunately, this supposed quest for answers sometimes led to places farthest from the truth. Ruby, who was one of the five freshmen who had been an instant favorite of Ms. Torres (though Ms. Torres may not admit it), was gradually living the aforementioned statement in the corner of a classroom nearest the door with almost half the class gathering by her seat.

“I bet it’s Mr. Sloan. They’re being too buddy-buddy these days.” Said a friend of hers from her right. They had been at this conversation almost as soon as the flock of freshmen entered the room. Names were being tossed around like contenders on an arena, each one given a slight hum of consideration before getting tossed out.

“No, they're being 'buddy-buddy' these days because Mr. Sloan is head over heels for librarian Grey, and his only gentlemanly braincell is Ms. Torres's entire brain.”, Maya, another friend of hers who believed herself to be perpetually correct all the time, shot down the earlier proposal. “My brother who’s an alumni here told me Ms. Torres got engaged years ago. But the dude left her and enlisted to the army. What if he came back?”

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would she get back with a guy who left her? Nuh-uh, girl is too badass.” said Ruby. She really should be preparing for their class, especially since the next teacher was someone they weren’t quite fond of (the students have in fact submitted multiple complaints against him, but Ruby does not want to think about that entire other world of drama right now). But it wasn’t her fault that, somehow, the gossip gravitated to her spot and she was sucked in. “What if it’s Mr. Karev?”

Everyone around her visibly grimaced.

“What? I saw them go home together that one time-”

“You saw who do what now?” An unfamiliar voice chimed in and surprised the huddled group with all the shock of a large perky rainbow bubble popping in the center of the crowd.

Shameless people that they were, the rest of the class fell back from Ruby’s seat and silently slunk to their own desks. Ruby smiled shyly at the newcomer, hoping to charm this intruding adult like she does her parents when they catch her on the phone instead of sleeping. But the charm she displayed was nothing compared to the almost annoyingly cheerful but confused look on the unknown blonde’s face. Forcibly tearing herself from the stranger’s blue eyes, she only replied, “Uhm, just someone.”

The blonde smiled, and dimples popped out on either sides of her cheeks. “Alright, well, you guys continue your talk later. It’s already five minutes past ten, and the last thing I want is to mess up my first day here.” She is greeted by confused but subtly hopeful silence. _Could she be…?_

“Oh, right. I’m your new English teacher. Mr. Stark is on a break indefinitely, so you’ll have to put up with me for a while.” The blonde ended with trailing laughter, and the class immediately brightened at the mention of Mr. Stark’s ‘indefinite’ break. It also did not hurt that they found his replacement to be a sunny balm to his harsh tenure as their English teacher. “My name is Arizona Robbins, like the U.S.S. Arizona.”

Ms. Robbins began to write her name on the board when Ruby caught the familiar gold glint of a wedding ring on her finger.

_Is that…?_

She gasped, and, when Maya, who was sitting beside her, gave her an inquisitive look, she only pointed excitedly at the wedding ring on their new teacher’s hand. Unsurprisingly, Maya’s mouth fell open in comedic surprise. The others seemed to be catching on to what she saw because the room is suddenly filled with hushed eager chatters.

“So, I understand Mr. Stark left you on this story when he was last here?” Ms. Robbins asked and the chatters immediately became one positive chorus. “Super, I’d also love to know your names, so how about you introduce yourselves as we work our way through the story. Is that okay?” Another positive chorus from the class. “Great! Any questions before we begin?”

A hand shot up, and Ruby is scared but not surprised that it is hers. She carried a certain pride for being one of Ms. Torres’s favorites, and it personally hurt her to not satisfy this irrational curiosity. Ms. Robbins acknowledged her and she asked, throwing to the wind her inhibitions (there is a strength to the reckless freedom of being a teenager, especially one so close to the truth in the rumors), “Ms. Robbins, I noticed the ring on your finger and, just by any chance, are you engaged to anyone on the school faculty?”

Ms. Robbins looked pleasantly surprised by her question. Her smile was knowing when she said, “Calliope warned me about the talk here.”

_Calliope? Wh—Oh!_

“Callie is short for Calliope?!” a boy exclaimed dramatically from the middle of the room.

Arizona muttered guiltily, “Shouldn’t have said that…”

Excited chatters enlivened the classroom again, and Ruby realized the class had never been this alive at 10 in the morning than it was now that Ms. Robbins had entered with her sparkling eyes and happy dimples. The rest of the hour was much of the same with occasional peals of laughter and a reinvigorated interest in the English subject now that Arizona was their teacher. When they were dismissed for their next classes, students left the room grinning and laughing, something that has never been produced in the den of the unforgiving Mr. Stark.

In the hour slotted for Ms. Torres’s class, some of her classmates greeted the Latina teacher with a cheeky “Good afternoon, Ms. Calliope.”

Ms. Torres, who had been writing on the board, immediately deflated and groaned exhaustedly. It threw their usually badass teacher in an embarrassed fit, cursing the new blonde addition in rapid Spanish. Ruby would feel guilty, but there was almost a domesticity to the bilingual tirades.

At the end of the day, Ruby caught Ms. Torres marching down the hall towards Ms. Robbins looking like she was about to put all those Spanish promises into action. “Arizona!” Callie yelled two rooms away from where Arizona was speaking to a student.

The blonde teacher lifted her head and looked around trying to find the voice. When she did, almost instantly, a bright smile split her face, her eyes lighting up from a mile away. All day, Ruby had heard her classmates half-jokingly tease their teacher with her full name that, at the last ring of the bell, she was almost tempted to scream at them to stop. The beautiful name Calliope had somehow been degraded even without the intention of doing so.

But, when Arizona Robbins called to Ms. Torres with something primordially affectionate and fond, “Calliope!”, there was a joy to the way the syllables are spoken, _adulated_ , that reminded Ruby of the beauty of some forgotten Greek muse. Well, that and the image of an excitable puppy seeing its human at the door.

And it looked like Ms. Torres felt the same as well, since her heavy march had become soft footfalls. When Ms. Robbins was within her reach, she pulled the smaller teacher into a weak hug, burying her face into the crook of her shoulder as she continued to murmur her slowing words into soft blonde tresses.

* * *

ii. the basketball team.

It was hard to continue moving when everything was just sweat and heavy breathing and burning muscles and a non-stop high-pitched noise that had Jake Fisher slowly wanting to shove that stupid blue whistle down Coach Karev’s throat.

It was a Friday, the day that Jake had been looking forward to the most. That was, until, in the middle of taking his third bite during lunch, he remembered the weekly after school basketball practice Coach Karev had scheduled for the team. Jake didn’t even want to be part of the team. He did ballet on the weekends, and would have been satisfied with just that were it not for his friends saying _‘Hey, why don’t we join the basketball team?’ ‘Sounds fun.’_

He realized too late it wasn’t fun. The remembrance of how Jake got himself in this physical torture almost had him choking from his breathless scoff.

This week’s practice was different from their usual drills. Coach Karev had called on Ms. Robbins to observe the team as they played. The previous week before today, the coach had warned them to keep themselves in tip-top condition, threatening to extend their final laps if they dared to disappoint the blonde teacher. Jake had no idea at that time why they had to impress Arizona Robbins of all people until a teammate of his, Pablo Walker, had gaped at him like he had just asked what year it was.

“Ms. Robbins’s older brother was a varsity MVP player for three years before he became a Marine. Timothy Robbins is a legend in the court.”, explained Pablo with unbridled admiration. Then, he continued listing off the names of schools that scouted Timothy Robbins as the rest of the team filed out of the locker room, emphasizing how hard it was to even be considered for a Saint something Academy sports scholarship.

And Jake still had no idea why they had to impress Ms. Robbins.

“She’s just the sister.” was Jake’s skeptical murmur a week ago, and it was the same uncaring comment that Ms. Robbins herself echoed as Jake slowed down into a weary walk to where Coach and the blonde teacher had been standing beside the team’s water bottles.

“I’m just the sister.” Arizona frowned at Alex Karev. “I have no idea if anything I told you actually helps.”

Jake’s head was pounding like a basketball was bouncing on his temple, or maybe it was the heavy dribbling on the court. He wanted to sit, to lie down, to just chuck himself into ice cold water. But his ears had latched on to the two teachers’ conversation, and Jake would rather damn himself before he ran back to the middle of the court.

“You watched your brother’s every match!”

“As a support system. Not as a coach!” Arizona bursted. “I have never gone near balls ever in my life.”

Jake could just have been dying of fatigue, but he could have sworn the coach chuckled. “Including basketballs? Hey, Walker!” Karev shouted for Pablo who had the ball on his hand. “Pass the ball to Robbins.”

Pablo was one of the stronger members of their basketball team, so when he passed to someone, it looked more like the ball was shooting out of a cannon and into enemy ship. An orange flash briefly flew halfway across the court, and then a shriek. This time, Jake wasn’t only sure that the coach was laughing, but he also felt the coach’s laughter contribute to the pounding in his head.

“You catch the ball, Robbins. You don’t run away from it.”

Jake could hear the scowl in Ms. Robbins’s reply. “I’m the last person you want catching balls.”

“Okay, enough with the jokes. How’s Torres?” Karev asked. The entire school was thrilled when Ms. Torres had started to show signs of a pregnancy, but no one was more enthusiastic than the expecting couple themselves. When in the topic about her unborn child, Ms. Torres would always boast with pride that she was pretty damn sure the kid would have Arizona’s dimples (apparently, their selection of the donor was done with the meticulousness of organizing a million-dollar business proposal).

“Callie? She’s caffeine-starved.” Said Ms. Robbins in a satisfied breath. When Karev gave her a look, Arizona only shot back. “What? I read that coffee was bad for the baby.”

“Did you get that on Facebook? Because, last time, you said eating more bananas would make it a girl.”

Jake was suddenly worried about the hands molding his future.

_Speak of the devil._ As Ms. Robbins and the coach continued to bicker, Jake noticed Ms. Torres silently enter the gymnasium with a playful smile on her face. She must have been waiting for her wife, because she stayed waiting by the door, still with that mischievous look towards Ms. Robbins.

The coach finally addressed the team and rounded them up. He said some encouraging words and told them how satisfied he was with today’s performance. A macho ‘yes, coach’ erupted from the team before they fell away and proceeded to do their cooldown exercises.

Jake looked back to find Ms. Torres sneaking behind Arizona. He blushed when he caught Callie smack Arizona’s behind, making the blonde yelp in surprise. But, when Arizona whirled around, she only grinned before pulling the Latina closer towards her. Jake eventually had to avert his gaze, feeling much like he was intruding on something private.

Erasing the flirting couple out of his mind, Jake finished the cooldown with the relief Jesus must have felt after rising from the dead. He followed his friends to the locker room to change. After freshening up, they headed outside and made their way towards the school gate. Their lively chatter echoed over the nearly empty hallways. A few rooms past and Jake noticed his empty left hand.

“Shit.” He checked his bag. Nothing. “I can’t find my water bottle.”

Pablo slowed down to match Jake’s bothered pace. “Maybe you left it at the gym?”

He remembered seeing Ms. Robbins and Ms. Torres talking on the bleachers after cooldown. Their faces were close together, those knowing smiles never dropping. With a blush, Jake had decided to skip them and head directly to the locker room. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“Nah, it’s alright. I’ll catch up with you.” Jake jogged back to the gym, but not even ten steps in, his lungs started to feel like they’ve been punctured by his own ribs. Resorting to a calm walk, he noiselessly arrived at what he expected to be a deserted gym. What he saw there had his face warming oh so quick and his cheeks burning with the equivalent of all the calories he just burnt.

Arizona had Callie pressed down the bleachers. Their lips were locked heatedly, almost like they didn’t care to breathe. One of Arizona’s hands trapped both of Callie’s wrist against the surface, but the other was moving in places and patterns that were too intimate to describe. They were making out like teenagers, intent on bringing to life all their heated gazes from earlier. And right beside them stood innocently Jake’s water bottle glistening with cool condensation.

Jake stepped back, closed the door, and ran away. The burning in his thighs couldn’t match the heat on his face. When he caught up to Pablo at the gate, he was heaving and gulping in deep breaths.

“You okay? Did you find your bottle?”

Jake nodded mindlessly. “Yeah—uh, yeah actually I think I left my bottle at home.”

* * *

iii. drama club.

“Look this way, Sofia. This way.” Kimmie Park cooed at the babbling toddler on her lap. Sofia suddenly squirmed, and Kimmie shifted her weight to catch the drooling toddler lest she fell. She was surprised but proud at the unexpected heaviness of Sofia’s clearly growing body, and she couldn’t help but reminisce on the days when the toddler was once a small child Kimmie had been wary to hold in the past in fear of bruising her.

The drama club always delighted in little Ms. Sofia’s visits. Make no mistake, Ms. Torres may wear her heart on her sleeve, but she was an expert at keeping her personal life private. That included the handful of times the drama club saw Sofia. Ms. Torres’s advisees had only ever been with Sofia when scheduling conflicts arose in the daycare or at home, or when their teacher had no other choice but to bring her child with her on afterschool drama practice.

The club members were always happy to see Sofia inside the school theatre, but Kimmie wished that Sofia’s frequent visits this year were because of better circumstances.

The child’s arms flailed wildly and a happy squeal tore from her throat. Kimmie looked up to see Ms. Torres herself enter the theatre. “Mama!” Sofia reached for the teacher, and Kimmie gently passed the baby to her mother. In her mother’s arms, Sofia was just a delight to behold; a bundle of happy noises and small wandering hands.

“I can’t thank you enough, Kimmie.” Callie said gratefully. When they were in the middle of practicing their stage choreography on a complicated scene, Callie’s phone rang harshly, breaking the cadence of the vibrant theatre. She was holding Sofia at that time while overlooking the club, but, after realizing who had called her, Callie called for Kimmie to watch over Sofia in her stead. Kimmie was one of the trusted seniors in the club, and Sofia always liked it when she sang to her.

“Not a problem, Ms. Torres.” Kimmie replied. She looked at both mother and child, and noticed that although Sofia was a jovial four-limbed child playing with the dark curls of her mother’s hair, Callie was quite the opposite. The Latina teacher, who usually exuded with strong confidence, appeared small in front of Kimmie. The dark red lipstick she wore looked bland today, and the wild curls that were as lush as a beast’s mane have fallen frigidly down her shoulders. Although Callie had been in this broken state for a month now, it still hurt Kimmie to see her mentor become someone she was not. “Is everything alright?”

Kimmie asked, although everything clearly wasn’t. And Callie Torres was an honest woman if nothing else, “That was from home.”

_Home._

The calls were always from home. Every time Ms. Torres took them outside, she returned to class with the grimmest look and glassy eyes that were about to cry or rage. Before Kimmie, the friendlier and closer students have already dared ask her, “Who was that, Ms. Torres?” And the reply was honest and always the same. “Home.”

They didn’t need to ask more, because they already knew who was at home.

Two months ago, the school got an invite to a Westside competition in Boise. Seven students went, and, as their official school chaperone, so did Ms. Robbins. On a Tuesday, they boarded a plane. The next day, the school received a call. The next Tuesday, classes were cancelled and everyone stood in front of seven pictures in the field. No one on that plane to Boise came back to school, because seven died along with the wreckage of a defective plane, and the eighth insisted on staying at home.

Arizona Robbins was the only survivor. Although no one was quite sure how much of her had survived. Nobody had seen her since before that trip to Boise.

After the crash, Ms. Torres and Ms. Robbins both took temporary leaves from the school. Ms. Torres left as distraught as a weeping storm. A month later, only Callie came back, but she returned ice cold. She started to bring baby Sofia with her. When she couldn’t leave the child at daycare, she would carry her to class. When she had to stay behind for work, she would ask one of the teachers to bring Sofia for her. No one told them not to, but the name ‘Arizona Robbins’ was never spoken in public, as if they had sworn some silent pledge to forget the cheerful teacher.

But the calls on Ms. Torres’s phone were incessant reminders of the memory they cannot leave behind. The hurt look on their teacher’s face after hearing the recurring ringtone was like punishment for daring to forget someone they had adored. And when Sofia yawned on the arms of her mother, it would always be followed with her sleepy demand, “I want Mommy.”

So, Arizona Robbins was alive. But from her time alone in the woods surrounded by seven young corpses, she had lost something important. Or maybe she brought something back with her.

Kimmie Park knew that PTSD wasn’t just something exclusive to war. But she was starting to wonder if it wasn’t just exclusive to anyone who experienced traumatic events either. Maybe it was also for the family who experienced the dark change in someone they once knew, they once loved. Maybe it was also for the person trying to coax back the memory of a ‘before’. For the child who lost something and can never get it back. And for anyone who returned with a darker ‘something’ following their backs.

A clap drew her attention away from the bleak path her thoughts had strayed. Beside her, Ms. Torres stood with her young daughter drowsy against her chest. It didn’t even occur to Kimmie that the day already ended. On the stage, the other members were cleaning the scene and returning props backstage. “Good job today, everyone.” Ms. Torres commended while swaying her body to a lulling beat. Kimmie saw Sofia’s eyes start to drop. One of her tiny hands already rested against her lips, a favorite pose for the little girl to sleep in. “Finish tidying up and you can go home.” Home.

She still had that essay to write, and she also had two quizzes scheduled for the next day. Kimmie could already see herself at 10PM on her bed with her laptop open and papers strewn about. But she knew that what would actually happen later at 10 was her on the bed rolling this way and that as she scrolled through her phone. She imagined her grandmother chastising her, and, hopefully, that was enough to motivate her into really studying.

A brief column of light entered the theatre before the doors close shut again. Ms. Torres had gone ahead with Sofia, the first to leave like she always did the past month. Kimmie wondered what Callie Torres saw at home. Was it a table completed with dinner? Baby toys strewn all over the floor? Was it the exchange of gentle words as she fed her bed-ridden wife? Was it a recurring argument when Sofia was already fast asleep? Or, was it the wood of a tightly shut bedroom door with her wife sitting motionless on the other side?

However, she did not voice her concerns to anyone in the room. They had that unspoken pact. But she did wonder, out loud, if she could sing to Sofia again tomorrow. The others understood.

* * *

iv. daycare.

There was a race car Frankenstein on the floor. Its rear wheels were replaced by the larger wheels of a toy dump truck. The left side was completely covered in glitter, and its roof had smiley faces drawn all over it. The plastic hood of the toy car was bent out of shape, and Mrs. Tyson suspected it had something to do with the crying match earlier.

As the last daycare nanny to leave the building, Mrs. Tyson had the unfortunate job of cleaning after the tiny troublemakers’ messes. She took the horrifyingly deformed plastic toy and briefly considered throwing it in the basket with the other toys before ultimately deciding to bring it home. Children were naturally inventive, but this is one contraption the kids did not need to see again.

With the toy car finally out of the way, Mrs. Tyson continued her rhythmic sweeping of the floor. The sun was starting to set. Warm orange hues painted the pastel walls of the daycare. The days became shorter as they grew closer to winter. It would be dark by the time she began locking the building.

Knocks on the window pane separating the playroom from the building’s main hallway interrupted Mrs. Tyson’s musing. On the other side of the foggy glass was a silhouette heaving deep breaths under layers of warm clothing, a clear sign that whoever it was had ran towards the daycare.

When she opened the door to the playroom, blue pleading eyes immediately greeted her view. It was a silent question loaded with hope. Mrs. Tyson hated doing this to Arizona every time, so all she did was give her a sad nod.

The blonde, however, did not deflate. “It’s Friday. Callie promised me I’d get Sofia this Friday.” Arizona argued.

“She called an hour ago and asked if Sofia was still around. I told her ‘yes’ and they came ten minutes later to take her.” Mrs. Tyson replied. Her blurry eyes did not miss the blonde’s slight flinch at the mention of a ‘they’. “I’m sorry, Arizona. I was closing soon and Sofia wanted to go home.” Those were the same words Mrs. Tyson told the divorced blonde every time she missed her daughter at daycare, and it saddened her to realize she said it more times than she didn’t.

Arizona ran her hand down her hair in frustration. “I know, it’s just that—“ the blonde groaned, obviously upset. “It’s just—I was looking forward to see Sofia. It’s been a long week.” She leaned against the wall much too carefully and slowly than she needed to.

“Oh, sweetie…” Mrs. Tyson frowned at the smaller woman. “Did you fall again?”

“No.” But the evading blue eyes told a different story. Silence stretched awkwardly between the two before Arizona gave in. “Okay, fine. Yes. But you don’t have to treat me like one of your little kids.”

“My hair is graying. I can treat anyone like little kids, and they’re gonna like it.” Which was true, especially where Arizona Robbins was concerned. The woman was stubborn and proud, and any form of coddling could hurt her pride made more sensitive by the aftermath of her accident. After just a few tries of helping the blonde, Mrs. Tyson soon understood what drove Callie Torres away in the first place. But, in time, these aged hands of hers were finally allowed to support the blonde, though it took the effort of appeasing a child throwing a fit. “Come now. You know the drill.”

They both entered an adjacent room where Mrs. Tyson kept her bag. Arizona stayed behind by the door, a remnant of the hesitation and hostility the daycare worker had to temper in the earlier days. Now, Mrs. Tyson only had to wave for her sternly so she would enter the small room. “Where this time?” She asked the blonde sitting on a chair as she rummaged through her bag for an ointment. Arizona was taking off her jacket while she waited.

“On my arm.”

They rolled the sleeve of the blouse she was wearing until they came upon a patch of purple skin against the freckled creamy expanse. Mrs. Tyson was glad that it was a very minor bruise already healing fine on its own. Still, she began to apply the cooling gel to the discolored area with Arizona sitting tense beside her all the while.

“Honestly, it’s nothing. See?” The indignant tone returned in Arizona’s voice. “I don’t even know why I made you do this.”

“Because you love to be taken care of. Admit it.” The only response was a scoff. Mrs. Tyson couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Sometimes, I think you keep acting like a child because you’re always too rigid when you’re not here, and my coddling keeps you sane.”

“That’s rude. No one has ever—“ the words abruptly stopped. Mrs. Tyson casted a worrying glance to the suddenly quiet blonde who wore a faraway gaze.

“What was that, Arizona?”

“No one ever called me rigid before. I was always… perky.” Her voice was loaded with the desire to go back to the past. Again, Mrs. Tyson lost Arizona to the wave of nostalgia only she could feel. Mrs. Tyson knew the ‘past Arizona’, and even she could admit that there had been a significant change in the other woman. Arizona only ever reverted back to her wide bright smiles when she was with her daughter Sofia. The rest of the time in daycare, may it be walking through the main doors or talking with an assistant, she looked and moved heavier than before.

“I don’t know why you don’t allow yourself to be happy.”

“What?”

“Arizona, you should know that everything that has happened that led to this,” she referred to the broken woman who resorted to a daycare worker to feel cared for. “is not deserving of this degree of self-punishment you are doing to yourself. You were in a plane crash, and every emotional outburst, every fight, every hate you threw at the world is always partly because of that. Your wife couldn’t stay for you, but, darling, that does not mean you don’t deserve to heal.”

“I know, I—I’ve made her unhappy for so long, all I want to do is make her happy forever.”

“Then, make her happy. But you don’t need to sacrifice yourself along the way.”

“But what if I have to?”

“What do you mean?”

Arizona gulped visibly, hesitance clear in her eyes. After some thought, she turned back to the daycare worker and spoke as if she was releasing a heavy breath. “Did you know that Callie is leaving for New York? Yeah, next month. Apparently, her girlfriend got this bigshot job there. They already have an apartment and everything. And—and they’re taking Sofia too.” Her voice was defeated, but there was a desperation in Arizona’s eyes. “What do I do with that?”

Mrs. Tyson was lost for words. Her heart was reaching out for the small blonde, but she couldn’t do anything if Arizona insisted on trapping herself in her mistakes. She could not imagine how burdened Arizona must have felt with her guilt that she was willing to do all these to make amends. “You move on, dear.”, said Mrs. Tyson, the only advice she could give for a helpless situation.

They unrolled the sleeve of her blouse, and Arizona waited while Mrs. Tyson finished locking up the daycare. When they went outside, the sky was already a light purplish color. Streetlights were turned on, and some cars were already using headlights. Mrs. Tyson looked around before regarding her uncanny companion once more.

“I don’t ever want to see you again, Robbins.” Mrs. Tyson told the younger woman. “You’re far too depressing for someone who works with children.”

Even though they both knew it was a joke, Arizona only laughed weakly.

Mrs. Tyson tried again. “You know, I’m not as young as I once was. But the people in the daycare, they talk about… you know, like they’re judges in Master Chef, but, instead of food, it’s dating.” She ignored the exasperated look thrown her way at the weird metaphor. “What I am trying to say is that I hear a lotta good talk about you.”

“They talk about me, a divorced mother with one leg?” This time, Arizona laughed loudly. But Mrs. Tyson wasn’t joking anymore.

“Oh, I’m serious. Believe me.” She said excitedly. The memories of these 'talks' slowly trickled back to her mind. “My eyes may be blurring, but I can see those secret glances Eliza Minnick sends your way. And, I know what they mean. That sexy vixen wants to—“

“Okay! Maybe not out here.” Arizona stopped the older woman, but Mrs. Tyson could see the red tinge on her cheeks. The older woman smiled. It’s refreshing to see color on Arizona’s complexion.

“My point is,” she turned fully towards Arizona, making sure that her words get through Arizona’s head. “There are people lining up for you. And when you’re over being a depressing hot mess, you might just have a shot at one of them.”

When they parted ways, Mrs. Tyson walked all the way to her home that was only a few paces away from the daycare. During dinner, she smirked secretively at her teenage son. “Tell that Ms. Robbins of yours that Eliza sends her regards first thing this Monday, okay?”

In her bedroom, as she was preparing her bag for tomorrow, she suddenly felt an unusual bulge among the items inside. When she took out the unknown object, she immediately released an embarrassing yelp. “Jesus Christ, I brought Franken-Car.”

* * *

v. the airport.

“Mama, give me all your money!”, demanded a little girl.

Lincoln McNeil happened to overhear the childish request over the indiscernible noises of the airport’s main lobby. He was at one of the snack bars munching on some chips while waiting for his sisters to arrive. The flight from New York just landed, and he saw a stream of people exiting the terminal gate, yet there were no signs of his two elder siblings. However, two of the newly-arrived people, the Latina mother and her spoilt kid, headed towards the snack bar where Link was at. That was when he overheard the child’s loud cries.

_My Ma and Pa better be glad I wasn’t like that._ He thought to himself, purposely ignoring his seventh, eighth and ninth birthdays when he had cried because they wouldn’t give him his own phone like they did Frankie and Ivy.

But, then, he heard the little girl shout again. “Give me your money, so I can throw it away, and you can’t buy plane tickets anymore. And we won’t have to go back to New York. And we can stay here forever with Mommy!”

_Well, what a plot twist_. Link suddenly held respect for the tiny girl with ribbons in her hair.

He didn’t know how the mother answered her, because they had moved to a farther table after receiving their food. Although, it definitely looked like the mom was more embarrassed than angry. She was nodding her head along with the little girl’s endless demands, trying to appease her daughter as much as she could in a public area.

Link’s phone vibrated and a text message popped out.

**Frankie** _5:43PM_  
Were at the gift shop. Ivys being stupid again. Just stay there. Txt u later when were done. U better bought me waffles. Im starving.

Where the fuck is Link supposed to get decent waffles in an airport? He looked at the remaining bag of chips he brought with him. _I hope you developed a taste for seafood flavored chips, Frankie._

Not finding himself doing anything else, he searched for the mother and daughter from earlier. The pair had become a trio while he was having imaginary arguments with Frankie, and Link balked in surprise at the woman who had recently joined their table.

It was Ms. Robbins from school. Link had only been there for a month, and he was still getting used to the new classmates and teachers, so he felt weird seeing her outside of school. It was like watching players only kick the ball during a volleyball match. It worked, but it somehow wasn’t right.

He sunk deeper into his seat, as if hiding his face behind his phone would lessen the chances of the blonde teacher feeling his gaze. Ms. Robbins was hugging the little girl from earlier in a tight embrace. He watched his teacher lovingly pepper kisses all over flush cheeks, and the little girl seemed to delight in it.

He thought back to the conversation he overheard, remembered the little girl saying ‘Mama’ and ‘Mommy’, and found himself with his mouth hanging open in disbelief. “Ms. Robbins is gay?!”, which, honestly, should have been the least of his worries. He could have started with “Ms. Robbins is married?” or “Ms. Robbins has a ten-ish year old daughter in New York?”, which were far more important questions in his quest to know more about the blonde teacher.

Out of all things, he didn’t expect the cheery blonde to be committed to someone, not with her usual habits in class, mainly, the giddy smiles at the sound of a message tone. One ‘ding’ and it was only usually an inevitable glance towards her phone. Two ‘dings’ and she’d start smiling wider as she discussed. But, their favorite is when her phone dings three times, especially if they had a quiz. That meant Ms. Robbins had to reply, or even go outside of the room. Every time, she’d return with a flush on her cheeks and a loopy smile Link had only ever associated with Frankie when some stupid boy texts her.

Those were the actions of a teenager with a crush, not of a married woman parenting a child.

“What are you staring at?”, an incredibly pesky voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Frankie with her hands on her hips and an arrogant arch on her eyebrows. College had made his sister more annoying than ever. “And where are my waffles?”

Link threw a bag of chips at her. “Your seafood flavored waffles in chip form, m’lady.” He taunted. “You try finding your stupid waffles in this godforsaken airport.”

It was Ivy, the eldest among the three, who followed where his eyes were trained on. “Is that Ms. Torres and Ms. Robbins?” she said as she dropped her bags on her chair. Half of them were souvenirs. There was one bag that had the logo of the airport gift shop on it.

Frankie finally followed their gazes, and she gasped loudly. “Oh my god! It’s Ms. Torres and Ms. Robbins!”

Link pulled his sister down on a chair. “Do you have to say that any louder? Ms. Torres is the woman with the dark hair?”

“Yeah, how don’t you know?” replied Ivy. “I thought you were going to the same school we did.”

“Ivy, Ms. Torres left for New York a bit after you graduated.” Frankie said sadly. “There was a lot of crying. She was a cool teacher. Too bad Link didn’t reach her. She has this study method for the exams that makes your grades go b—“

“Yeah, yeah. Poor Link.” He muttered. “Are they married?” he asked hurriedly, excited to know more about his teacher.

“Yes.”, answered Ivy.

“Divorced.”, answered Frankie.

“Divorced?!”, wheezed Ivy. “Are you sure? They just got married when I went there.”

“Don’t you know about the plane crash?”

“Of course, I know about the plane crash. Why do you think I transferred?”

Link had no idea what ‘the plane crash’ was, but he figured it must be some secret code for another big high school event he missed out on. He reminded himself to ask more about that later. For now, he had bigger questions. He thought of ringtones and the loopy smiles that followed right after, and how all these belonged to a woman who was supposedly married. “Is Ms. Robbins a cheater?”

While Ivy had nothing to say, Frankie almost choked on the bag of chips she had been eating. “Uhm, we don’t talk about that.”

Ivy was surprised. “Wait, I know you’re not telling me she cheated.” When Frankie only remained silent, Ivy gripped both her shoulders and almost shook her soul away. “She cheated?!”

“Not here where the people in question can hear you!!!” Frankie whispered harshly. “At home, I promise!”

But Ivy was having none of it. His two sisters continued pestering each other, and Link soon lost interest in both of them. He knew Frankie was a storyteller, so he was never sure if half of what she said was true. And, although Ivy had gone to the same school they did, that was already far enough in the past to not be relevant for Link anymore. Besides, he wasn’t sure if conciliating his sisters when _they_ argue with each other was worth the trouble.

Link looked back to the table with their two teachers and their kid. While the little girl was now focused on her newly bought milkshake, Ms. Robbins was staring deeply at the other woman beside her with an all-too familiar grin on her lips. It was the same loopy smile she put on after answering her calls or reading her texts. The same nervous gaze. It was almost like Link heard the familiar ‘ding’ in their faces.

He watched them as they stood up. They trailed behind their daughter who was excited to finally go home, all the while their hands were always brushing against each other but never holding. Every time there was skin on skin contact, both women would jump before exchanging embarrassed smiles.

Both his sisters were still on a hushed angry fight when the couple left the airport. Ivy and Frankie were debating about what had actually happened to their teachers, Frankie telling her about some gloomy stories and Ivy insisting that they were the most timeless couple she had ever seen, and adding that they wouldn’t be at the airport together if they had broken up. But, while his sisters were making up stories, Link developed a theory of his own.

“Note to self: after divorce, you go back to being a teenager with a crush.”

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
> 
> if, somehow, you liked this, you can find more of my calzona fanfic AUs and ideas on this twitter thread: https://twitter.com/praetorianeh/status/1340558696896626689?s=20 
> 
> and maybe tell me which one i should do next? just to steam out all my calzona breakdown feels


End file.
